


SoMa Week 2015

by Dragons4ever



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: F/M, SoMa Week, SoMa Week 2015
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-21 09:42:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3687489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragons4ever/pseuds/Dragons4ever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fills for SoMa week 2015. Ratings may vary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Geeking Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoop, SoMa week is here again! Here’s my entry for Geeking Out, set pre-canon, though SoMa only if you squint. Future entries will be a lot shippier.

Maka watched in awe as the older pair stepped into the middle of the sports hall. She clasped her hands together in her lap and did her best not to fidget in her seat in the bleachers. Beside her, her partner sat slumped, doing his best to look apathetic with everything that was going on.

“This is gonna be so cool!” she breathed, glancing at her weapon.

Soul returned her gaze evenly for a moment, then a small smirk grew on his face. “Trust a bookworm like to you to get so excited about a demonstration. _Nerd_.”

She pursed her lips and puffed out her cheeks, resisting the urge to chop her partner and thereby cause a scene. Instead she hissed, “You know this is different to the just upperclassmen showing off. They’re a real three star pair! The best of the best!” She glanced over at the older weapon standing next to her partner on the ground in front of them. “Even if the weapon isn’t a deathscythe, their techniques are way more advanced. We can learn a lot from them.”

He scoffed quietly. “You said that when the pair from the graduating class demonstrated soul resonance in November, and we still can’t get it.”

“ _That’s because you’re too lazy to apply what you learn_!” she whispered furiously.

Soul scowled at her and opened his mouth to refute that claim when he was stopped by Sid clearing his throat at the bottom of the bleachers. The chatter from the rest of their year quieted down, leaving silence.

“Thank you for attending today’s demonstration. I know this isn’t strictly mandatory, given it’s a Saturday, but it will help you understand what we’ve been teaching you in theory,” Sid began. “Today we have Sasha and Isabelle—” he gestured to the pair standing behind him “—students from our European branch who passed their three star test just over six months ago, and have been kind enough to come in and show you what it means to earn that rank.

“Now, what you’re about to see if far beyond what you are expected to learn this year, even for the next two or three years. But the by the time you graduate, you should be close to their standard. Hopefully some of you will even exceed it by making, or becoming, deathscythes.” Sid grinned and clapped his hands. “Now, I’ll let them show you what they can do.”

Waving his arm to indicate that the floor was theirs, he walked to the side.

One of the girls from the pair took a step forward and bowed, dark curls bouncing over her bare, pale shoulders. “I am Isabelle Baudin, three star meister. And this—” the other girl, with dark skin and hair shaved close to her head, bowed “—is my weapon partner Sasha Kuznetsov, double-headed battle axe.” She spoke with a deep French accent and stared at the audience with a determined expression.

When the meister held out her hand, the weapon transformed wordlessly, falling into Isabelle’s grasp. Sasha’s blades began to glow as her meister moved into a battle stance.

“First, we will show you our resonance,” Isabelle said.

The axe began to spin in her hand, and she began to move, jumping the axe from hand to the other, before stopping and roaring “ _La danse de la hache!”_

With a flick of Isbelle’s wrists, Sasha’s blades grew five times bigger, and dust began to move around the pair as their power grew.

Maka, and many of her classmates, gasped and cooed in awe. From the corner of her eye, Maka could see that even Soul looked impressed. Smiling to herself, she settled down to watch the rest of the demonstration. Maybe her aloof partner was not as detached as he tried to make out.

* * *

Once the demonstration—which included numerous demonstrations of battle moves, resonance states, and a couple of sparring battles with graduating pairs—was over, Maka, her partner, and the rest of their year shuffled their way out of the gym.

“That was so awesome!” she kept saying.

Soul sighed and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “As you keep telling me.”

She grabbed his arm and shook him gently. “Come on, admit you thought it was cool.”

The beginnings of a small smile tugged at his lips, before he schooled his features into a neutral expression. “Alright, yeah, it was pretty cool.”

She beamed. “I’m going to learn to do all those somersaults. I’ll be moving you like that in no time!”

His expression fell slightly. “Please don’t, I’ll hurl you spin me like that.”

She laughed a little and smacked his middle lightly with the back of her hand. “You’ll be fine Tough Guy. Now, when they were doing the third resonance state, I thought that maybe we should change up our training regime, maybe include some—”

She was interrupted by someone barrelling into her, taking her down with them. Soul stared in horror as who had previously been nothing by a blue blur stood up and brushed himself off, grinning like usual.

“So, what did you guys think of that? That’s gonna be me in a year!” Black*Star said cheerfully. “Right Tsubaki?”

Said weapon appeared and smiled apologetically at Maka before giving Black*Star a thumbs up. “Yep!”

Maka punched Black*Star in the stomach, then brushed the dust off her jacket as he doubled over. “At least give everyone a warning when you try to imitate Sonic, Black*Star,” she huffed. “Or you’ll get more than just a sucker to the belly.”

Black*Star wheezed a “yeah, OK” before straightening with a groan.

The blonde meister turned to her weapon and smiled. “Come on Soul, let’s go home. We’ve got a new training plan to sort out, and I know you haven’t done that essay for Nygus yet. See you on Monday, Tsubaki.” With that she turned on her heel and began to walk away, hands clasped behind her back.

Soul groaned but followed after her anyway, giving Black*Star a shoulder squeeze and Tsubaki and “see ya later”.

As they walked towards the steps, Maka leaned towards Soul slightly and said in a low voice, “Don’t worry, I’ll make you a deathscythe in no time. Then _we’ll_ be the ones others can geek about.”

He smirked a little. “I’ve got no doubt about that.” Then, after a pause, he added, “ _Geek_.”

She considered it a mercy that she only smacked him for it.

 


	2. Cuddles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have day 2, Cuddles. Hella shippy!

Soul sighed as he leaned against his motorbike, watching the meisters file off the bus in front of the steps to the academy in the light of the setting sun. Judging by the bruises and cuts that littered the first few meisters to get off the bus, it was going to be one of those trips that half emptied their medicine cabinet of plasters and creams.

He heard a whoop and saw Black*Star barrel off the bush towards Tsubaki, who was waiting patiently some way away from him. Then came Kilik, who groaned (probably in minor pain) but grinned nonetheless when the twins crashed into his knees. Then came Kim, who was ignoring Ox who was following her. Then another meister who was partnered with a mace and then…. _Maka!_

He grinned when she looked around and finally caught sight of him. They waved at each other before she turned to Sid to sign out. They shared a few words before she finally started walking towards him.

Soul stopped leaning against his bike and stood properly, though still slouching, and held out his arms when she was close enough to throw herself into them.

“Good time?” he asked teasingly, only able to take in the bruise on the side of her face, the cut above her eyebrow, and her split lip before she rose on her tip toes to kiss him chastely.

She hummed in answer and grinned. “Sid and Stein both said I’ve improved a lot in the past six months.” She kissed him again when he held her hips gently. “Beat all my personal records.”

“And that’s why you’re the coolest partner ever,” he said with a crooked grin. He pulled away slightly and brushed a thumb across a graze on her chin gently. “Any major damage?”

She grinned cheekily. “Only five noses and a sprained ankle. Ox knew better than to challenge me this time.”

He gave her a deadpan look.

She huffed and batted his hand away. “I’m _fine_.”

He scoffed a little and pulled away completely so he could get on the bike. “I’ll believe that when I see it. You are also in desperate need of a shower, did you know that?”

She hopped on the bike after him and pinched his side, grinning viciously when he yelped. “You got something you wanna say to me Eater?”

He grumbled and started the engine. “No ma’am.”

“That’s what I thought.”

The ride back to their apartment was nice; the streets were mostly empty and the spring breeze felt nice in his hair. Paired with the warm meister pressed against his back, he felt pretty good.

At least until they got home, and Maka took off her shirt so she could shower before he cleaned her various cuts and scrapes.

She met his scowl evenly in the bathroom mirror.

“So this is your definition of ‘ _fine’_.”

“It looks worse than it actually is.”

‘It’ being the massive, mottled bruise on her left side.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Are you _sure_ you didn’t fracture a rib?”

“ _Yes_!” she snapped. In a pathetic mumble she added, “Stein probed me plenty of times when Papa told him what happened.”

“Which was?”

She pouted. “Black*Star.” No further explanation was needed.

Soul pressed his lips into a thin line and said nothing. As she showered he pulled out the antiseptic, cotton wool and plasters.

“You know,” she called over the sound of the shower. “We were all cleaned up at the camp. We had professional doctors with us, if—”

“Indulge me,” he interrupted.

She poked her head round the shower curtain, foaming hair and all, presumably to scold him for being a worrywart, but she stopped when she saw his face. Instead, a sad little smile pulled at her mouth.

“You’re a dumbass,” she said softly, before moving back into the shower to rinse off.

He did not try to deny it.

Once she was dried off, they were silent as she sat on the toilette seat cover and watched him take care of her. She still had the small smile once he was finished, and she shuffled to their room to put on pyjamas while he put the supplies away.

He took his time, and by the time he left the bathroom she was already making her way to the kitchen in search of food.

One piping hot dinner of left-overs later and Maka’s eye lids began to droop. Soul herded back towards their bedroom (which had once been his) and changed into flannel pants and an old t-shirt as she slipped under the covers. He climbed in beside her, brushed a kiss to her forehead, then turned over to go to sleep.

She made a confused noise in the back of her throat. “Soul?”

He twisted his neck to look at her over his shoulder. “Hm?”

“Is-is everything alright?” she asked, shuffling a little closer.

He bit the inside of his cheek and, against his better judgment, turned back over to face her. “Yeah, course.”

Her brows furrowed. “Then why aren’t we cuddling?”

He debated for half a second about whether to lie or not, but one look at her big green eyes staring at him with concern made him decided honesty was always the best policy, especially since this was about her wellbeing.

“You’re hurt,” he said simply.

She sighed loudly in exasperation and whacked his chest. “ _I’m_. **_Fine_**.”

“You have a giant bruise right where I normally put my arm—”

“You’ve cuddled me when I had cuts all over my back!”

“You made me into your mattress! Kinda hard _not_ to cuddle when someone’s laying on you.”

She groaned loudly and grabbed his arm. “For fuck’s sake. Soul Eater Evans, cuddle me, _now_.” And with that she pulled his arm over her side, hooked a leg over his, and tucked her head under his chin.

He spluttered her name and how she was hurt but she ignored him, opting to press butterfly kisses to his collarbone and neck until he shut up.

“I’m fine,” she repeated once they had both settled down. “Let’s just go to sleep. Love you.”

He restrained the urge to grumble about bossy meisters who did not look after themselves and mumbled, “Love you too.”


	3. Catharsis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The angstiest these will get, and this isn’t even that angsty. Enjoy! Thanks to Lueurdelaube for the eyes.

He smothers her and it’s _nice_. Far nicer than she had expected. He’s tall and lanky and he encompasses her as they doze on the couch. He’s on top of her, breathing evenly into her neck as she runs her hands through his fluffy hair, and it’s just so _nice_.

She bites her lip forcefully when she contemplates kissing his head, or his cheeks, or his lips.

Friends don’t have those sorts of feelings for each other, and friends are all they are.

This doesn’t erase the fact that she trust him, adores him, _loves_ him above all else. A niggling little seed of pure _want_ is sown in her soul and no matter how she tries, she only ever pulls the stem off the little weed. The roots grow deep into her heart until tearing them out would mean tearing herself apart.

And despite all the insistence that she is courage incarnate, she’s too scared to try and remove it properly.

Maka Albarn is tied up with Soul ‘Eater’ Evans and untangling them is impossible.

It smothers her, and this feeling is a lot _less_ nice.

* * *

He mothers her too, cleaning and bandaging any and all wounds, cooking for her when she gets sick, gives her all the attention and affection she could ask for (even if she doesn’t). His fond smile wrecks her and feeds the little weed in her heart and soul.

She’s way too far gone on him to be healthy, but Death, she doesn’t want to stop.

Everything he does for her makes the pressure in her chest build and no matter how hard she tries to push it down her love leaks into soft looks and touches. The urge to blurt her feelings grows with each passing week, each passing day that he softens to her.

Not that he lets her shit slide though, he still calls her on it. But that’s good, that’s another part of him to love. He guides her, _inspires_ her to do better, become better. And that’s what a soul mate is, isn’t it? He’d deny it if she ever told him—not that she will though—and say it’s the other way round. She inspires him, gives him courage, helped him stop running.

They become more tangled as time passes and their boundaries blur.

He naps on or next to her most days, with one of her hands in his hair. She wraps an arm around him whenever nobody’s looking, and he buries his smile in her hair. Their fingers are almost constantly intertwined, their souls melted into one.

Nothing gives her more anxiety than the prospect of being torn apart. And that in itself is terrifying

* * *

The mission is brutal. He is ripped from her hands by rogue witches, and injures himself trying to get back to her. She nearly dies trying to protect the civilians who were still alive when they arrived.

For a moment before she passes out, just as help arrives, she feels his soul blink out of her perception and her whole being shudders, her vision tilts are half of her just _disappears_.

He appears again as the darkness swallows her, but it’s too late to register it. Anguish engulfs her soul, and only the fact that she’s unconscious stops her from screaming.

* * *

She wakes up with a fluffy head of white in her face and her sobs of relief wake him up. Her soul slams into his and he starts pressing kisses all over her face, promising to always stay by her side.

They cry together and she kisses him.

It’s wet and salty and desperate, and they keep missing each other’s mouths. She laughs as she cries, and holds him so tight that she’s sure she leaves bruises. He’s so delicate with her that her that it breaks her heart.

The pressure that had built in her for what feels like years erupts and she spills.

“I love you I love you I love you,” she chants as he kisses her.

He chokes on a laugh-sob hybrid and seals his mouth over hers, touching her all over, searing her into his memory.

She continues to chant as he starts to kiss her chin and cheek, then her lips again, kissing all over her face once more.

“I love you,” he finally replies, hoarse and quiet. “More than anything.”

Their tears finally subside, and they’re just a hot mess, red faced with blood-shot eyes. He presses his face against her neck and they nuzzle against each other. His arms have settled around her waist as hers wrap around his shoulders. The pressure in her chest is gone, and she feels so light, so happy, like she’s airborne.

They laugh about it later, when she gets checked over by a doctor and Soul gets reprimanded for leaving his room. Their hands are clasped so tight that their knuckles turn white and their eyes keep flicking back to each other.

“My place is with my meister,” Soul says when a nurse tries to get him to go back to his room, and the nurse grumbles about ridiculous academy students before leaving them alone for a while.

He climbs into bed with her and they kiss a little more, far less desperate than before, but with even more meaning.

* * *

When she’s finally able to go home, after being moved back to Death City to stay in the academy infirmary, they rearrange their rooms so he moves into hers. They express their love almost every waking second, though not always in words.

Over time, Soul shows her that the love growing in her heart was never a weed, it was a sapling. Their love will go big and strong, and ever-lasting.

He still smothers her sometimes, and mothers her a lot, but it is always, _always_ nice.

* * *

The only other time pressure like that grows in her chest is when she tries to find the courage to tell him that something else is growing in her. Something that is half of both of them.

Again, Soul cries when she tells him. And the other two times it happens.


	4. Dragons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had so much trouble with this prompt like you wouldn’t believe. Every idea I had just wouldn’t come out right no matter how many times I rewrote them. And in the end you get this, some weird AU that I actually kinda really want to write for now. I hope you like it.

Soul tried to sleep he really did. Instead he found himself staring at the canopy of his new, large, luxuriously soft, four poster bed. A bed that—he had been assured—paled in comparison to what was going to be his marriage bed.

He was getting _married_. And he was betrothed to the _Dragon Queen_. Oh Lord above, how had he managed to get himself into this situation?

The magical mark above his heart burned to remind him.

They had matched spirits. They had _resonated_. They had seen into each other’s very souls. She had marked him as hers, and in a week’s time he would belong to her in full. All because his mother had insisted he at least _ask_ to dance with Her Majesty (an offer he had never believed she would accept).

A little laugh bubbled in his throat and he clamped a hand over his mouth to stop it. It was all so _surreal_.

He was startled from his minor hysteria by his bedroom door opening. He scrambled to sit upright just as he caught sight of a familiar head of blonde peaking around his bedroom door.

“May I come in?” Lady Maka, Queen of Dragons and all the land, asked in a whisper.

The mark on his chest warmed pleasantly at the sight of her.

“Of course,” he murmured, and she slipped in, closing the door behind her.

As she approached his bed with silent and graceful footsteps, the lamps attached to the wall on either side of his bed illuminated, probably due to her magic. The light reflected off her pure white night-dress and she stunned him.

He leaned back against his bed’s vast headboard as she climbed onto his bed, but stayed above the covers.

“Can’t sleep either?” he said and she shook her head.

“You’re worried about something,” she said softly. “I can feel it.” She tapped her heart with her index finger, indicating the replica of his mark hidden beneath her clothing.

“O-oh,” he breathed, ashamed he had disturbed her. “Sorry.”

She blinked at him, then shook her head hurriedly and waved her hands at him. “Oh! No, no, that’s not what I meant. I couldn’t sleep, and I felt that you were worried about something, so I decided I might as well try to ease your mind if I was awake as well.” She smiled sheepishly and tucked some of her hair behind her ear shyly. “So, what worries you?”

He fidgeted a little. “I…I’m really _worried_ , I guess. It’s just that…this is a lot to take in. A lot to get used to. You know?”

She nodded and looked down at her clasped hands in her lap. “I understand. I’m sorry this has happened so quickly, it’s a lot to adjust to in such a short space of time.” She looked up and smiled slightly at him from under her lashes. “We can push the ceremony back another few months if you would like. My advisers would understand.”

He smiled in return and slowly inched his hand closer to hers, pulled by her soul, until his littlest finger brushed the hem of her nightgown. “No, it’s alright, I think…having the ceremony will help. Then I can actually, well, _be_ your prince. I feel almost like I’m in limbo, just waiting for things to happen.”

“Ahhh,” she said. “I understand.” A hand moved from her lap and took his, intertwining their fingers. He felt his soul pulse strongly at the contact, and her feelings of serenity and calm washed against him like the waves of the sea. “You have nothing to fear.”

They sat in silence for a moment, and the lights attached to his wall dimmed a little. With her beside him he felt…happy. Warm. Complete.

“Soul,” Maka suddenly whispered, and his bedsheets rustled as she moved a little closer to him. “Can—can I kiss you?”

The mark on his chest _burned_ and his heart tripled its pace. Wordlessly he leaned towards her, allowing her to lean towards him in turn. Her other hand cupped his cheek and stroked his stubbled skin with a thumb before her breath fanned against face, hot and slightly smokey. Then, softly, ever so softly, her lips met his.

And _oh_ , it was like resonance all over again. Heat spread through his body, starting in his lips and building until every part of his body steamed and his blood boiled. He breathed in the smell of her and it was intoxicating.

She pulled away slightly and took a shuddering breath. Their clasped hands left each other and she cupped his other cheek while he grabbed her shoulders.

“Soul, I—we should wait, I didn’t realize—,” she cut herself off and continued to stroke his face gently. Things were trickling from her soul to his with increasing speed and force and it made his own feelings grow.

He knew she was right, to go any further would be wrong but at the same time, they were getting married in a week. What harm could it do to give himself to her completely right now? All comprehensive thought left his mind in that moment at the shear notion that he could be hers _now_.

“Maka,” he breathed, the only word he knew.

And that single word was their undoing, it tipped the scales of her feelings and she fell into him, kissing him desperately, tugging at his night shirt as he circled his arms around her waist to pull her closer.

He gave himself to his Dragon Queen that night and every night from then on, happy, and willing, and full of love for her.


End file.
